


If Living Is Without You

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-03-30 22:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3954904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marianne kept her illness a secret from Bog, so as not to worry him, but when her condition unexpectedly and drastically worsens, what will happen when the Dark Forest's king finds out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 200 hits = 1 new story
> 
> I originally wanted this to be a looooooong one-shot, but I ended up getting too emotional to finish it all in one sitting, so I will be extending this into a multichapter fic. About 3-4 parts will do, I think.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!  
> Warning: angst ahead...

Extra clothes?

 _Check_.

Toothbrush?

 _Check_.

Comb?

 _Check_.

Make-up?

 _Check_.

Maps?

 _Check_.

New trade proposals?

 _Check_.

Sword?

 _Double check_!

Marianne slung her full satchel over her shoulder and headed straight for her open bedroom window.  Now she just had to hurry and get out of here before-

“Put _down_ the satchel and step _away_ from the window!”

-Dawn caught her.

 _Crap_ in a _thimble_!

“Now Dawn-”

“Don’t you ‘now Dawn’ me!”  Her little sister retorted as she yanked the satchel away and pulled Marianne back into the main part of the room by the elbow.  “ _You_ are _not_ going _anywhere_!  You’re _sick_!”

“I’m _not_ sick!”  Marianne tried to argue even as she let her sister steer her to her rose-bed and guide her to a sitting position.  “I’m just a little run down from all the stuff I’ve had to take care of while dad’s away.”   

Now that the cool autumn season had arrived, their father was currently visiting the far south region of the Fairy Kingdom, ensuring that everything would be in order once it came time for the winter migration.  He wouldn’t be due back until the end of the month.  

As heir, it was Marianne’s responsibility to rule the kingdom in his stead, and she had been doing a fantastic job of it, but unfortunately, it left virtually _no_ time for her to spend with Bog. 

Always willing to help, especially in matters of romance, Dawn, under the reasoning that technically _she_ was an heir as well and could use the practice, just in case, had offered to take over while Marianne took a well-deserved, week-long vacation in the Dark Forest.

Apparently, she’d changed her mind. 

“A little run down, my _foot_!”  She scoffed, wrestling her sister’s boots off.  “You’ve been achy and dizzy, you haven’t slept, nor touched a bite of food for _three_ whole days and this morning your _temperature_ started to rise!  You _know_ that’s a _really_ bad sign, Marianne!”

The brunette opened her mouth to contradict, but thought better of it. 

“I’m sorry,” her sister went on, “you know I’m yours and Bog’s biggest fan, and I know how much you’ve been missing him, but I am _not_ going to gamble with your health like this.”

After a little more coaxing, Marianne ultimately gave in with a huff and let Dawn dress her in her nightgown and hand her a glass of water. 

She didn’t want to admit how nice the icy liquid felt going down her itchy throat. 

“Don’t worry about a thing!”  Dawn chirped, fluffing the pillows and straightening the blankets.  “I’ll take care of everything.  I’ll fetch a healer, I’ll go to the council meetings, I’ll oversee the trades, _and_ I’ll wait on you hand and foot!”

Marianne still pouted.

“I was gonna spend _all_ of this week with Bog!”

“Well, now you’ll just have to spend all of _next_ week with him!  You’ll be better in no time and I’ll send him a message letting him know you-”

“ _NO_!”  Marianne exclaimed, seizing her sister’s wrist.  “ _Don’t_ do _that_!”

“What?”

“ _Don’t_ tell _Bog_ about _this_ ; about me being _sick_!”          

Dawn’s brow creased in confusion.

“Why _not_?”

“I don’t wanna worry him.”

“Marianne, he _should_ know!  He’s your _boyfriend_!”

“Ugh, _don’t_ call him _that_!”

“That’s what he _is_!”

“Well, yeah I know, but ‘boyfriend’ just sounds so…so… _goopy_.”

“ _Goopy_?”  Dawn repeated, nearly snorting with laughter.  “Are you _serious_?!”

“Oh, shut up!”

“I am _definitely_ getting you a healer now!  I think your _brain_ is starting to go!”  The blonde briefly giggled before sobering.  “But _really_ , Marianne, don’t you think Bog would _want_ to know if you’re not feeling well?  Oh, what if he brings you a bowl of home-made goblin soup to make you well again?!  Eee!  That’d be so _romantic_!”

“ _Or_ ,” Marianne cut in, “what if he _freaks_ and drives me up the wall with all his fussing?  You know how protective he is!”

“That’s because he _loves_ you!”

“I know, and I love him too, but I’ve made my decision and I say _don_ ’ _t_ tell him!   You said so yourself, I’ll be better in no time, we’ll just loose a few days, a week at the most!  He’ll be better off not hearing anything about this, so he won’t get all worked up.  Just tell him…tell him we had some nobles drop in at the last minute and I had to-”

“Oh _no_ you don’t!” Dawn crossed her arms and stuck her button nose in the air.  “I am _not_ going to _lie_ to Bog for you!  _My_ future brother-in-law deserves _better_ than that, thank you very much!”

“We’re _not_ engaged!”

“Well good!  I wouldn’t wanna marry you either if you kept secrets from me!”

“What?!  I-you-that doesn’t-!  Oh for goodness sake, _fine_!  Just tell him I’ll be there next week!” 

“What about why-?”

“Say I’m…too _busy_ to get away!

“…”

“Technically, it’s not a lie!”

Dawn glared at her, but eventually heaved a sigh of defeat.

“Alright, Marianne.  Have it your way.  Just don’t blame _me_ if Bog finds out and wants _your_ head on a stick.”

“Hey angry Bog, I can handle; but I’ll pass on hovering Bog any day.  Besides, he _won’t_ find out.  I’ll be back on my feet in a day or two.” 

“I still think you’re being ridiculous.”  Dawn said, crossing to Marianne’s writing desk so she could get to work on her note for the Dark Forest’s mistreated king.  

* * *

When Bog received the message he had, of course, been deeply disappointed that his plans with Marianne had to be put on hold, even if it was only for another week.  He had been _aching_ to see her, to hear her, to _touch_ her. 

Nevertheless, he understood all too well the ever-present demands of ruling a kingdom alone.  He would be patient and wait.

…But Marianne didn’t come the following week…

Nor the week after.

By the third week, Bog was nervous enough to send a letter of inquiry. 

There was no reply and no Marianne.

He sent more letters... 

The fourth week began, still without an answer and without a princess.  

* * *

Sunny paced the floor of Dawn’s bedroom as he waited for her to return from the hospital wing with, hopefully, some good news. 

The past couple of weeks had been nothing short of hellish.

Within _hours_ after Dawn’s note was sent to the Dark Forest, Marianne had collapsed on her way to the lavatory and had to be put in intensive care. Every available healer in the immediate vicinity had been summoned to the castle. 

The elf had not been able to see Marianne himself, everything factual he knew had come from Dawn, but the rumors were raging through the kingdom that the eldest princess might not be long for this world.

Some were _already_ leaving lit candles in their windows as a sign of mourning! 

Sunny refused to believe such talk.  The only thing that was for certain, was that Marianne had _not_ shown any sign of improvement yet. 

Word had been sent to the Fairy King, but reports said that the winds were very high towards the south right now, so the messengers had to resort to traveling on foot until the weather turned more favorable for flying.  At this rate, the king would only learn of his daughter’s sickness the moment he returned to the main fields. 

And Dawn!

Bless her, she’d been running herself _ragged_ trying to keep things organized _and_ look after her sister!  She’d barely gotten any sleep and would’ve eaten even less, had it not been for Sunny’s stubborn insistence at monitoring her diet. 

The _last_ thing they needed was _another_ patient. 

Up until fifteen minutes ago, he’d wondered why the Bog King had yet to make an appearance.  Surely he would’ve been at Marianne’s bedside in a flash as soon as he’d heard about how serious the situation was? 

The reason, he’d discovered, was currently lying on top of Dawn’s vanity:

A small group of letters bearing the Dark Forest’s royal seal. 

Dawn had been so frazzled lately, she must not have had time to answer them.

He shuddered to think what raw turmoil might be going through Bog’s mind right now and how it would undoubtedly increase to _manic_ proportions once he found out just how much Marianne’s condition had declined since he’d heard last.

_Or all of you will be NEXT!_

Sunny did _not_ want to know what would happen when a goblin’s temper was lost. 

The sound of dragging footsteps coming through the doorway prevented him from dwelling on the subject any further and Sunny looked up to see the pale and haggard form of Dawn entering the room.

Her normally primped hair was mussed and flat.  She’d been wearing the same dress for three days straight.  It was spotty, the skirt was wrinkled and there was a rip along the right side of the hemline.  Her once vibrant eyes were now glassy and bloodshot.   

But it was her pure, heartbroken expression that struck him numb.

_Marianne!  No…no, she couldn’t be!  NO!_

“S-S-Sunny.”  The princess whimpered before she shot across the room and into his arms, nearly barreling him over in the process.

“Oh, Sunny!” She pitifully wept, burying her face in his neck.  “Sh-Sh-She’s not…any b-better!  She’s m-m-mo-more r-restless than she-she was l-l-last night, b-b-but now sh-she’s…she’s in- _incoherent_!  She w-wouldn’t answer m-m-me wh-when I tried to-to speak t-to her!  Sh-She can’t…can’t tell wh-what’s going on around h-her anym-m-more!”    

Even though the awaited news was still profoundly disappointing, Sunny felt his pulse decelerate in relief that it wasn’t as dire as he’d initially feared.  He stroked Dawn’s back to soothe her. 

“Do y-you know wh-what the l-l-lead standing he-healer said to-to me just now?  He s-s-said…he said…he said I…I sh-should pre-prepare f-f-for the _worst_!”  

She wailed and clutched Sunny tighter.

“Hey now!” The elf said, leaning back to cup her face in his hands.  “ _None_ of that, do you hear me?  Dawn, you _know_ your sister’s tougher than caiman hide.  She _won’t_ let _this_ bring her down.”

He thumbed away her tears.

“Don’t listen to that guy!   We’re still waiting for Master Philip to get here, remember?  He’s been known to turn a diagnosis around, no matter how fatal it looks.  When do you expect him?”

“We-We finally tracked him d-down in the…in the-the Zoysia Hills a f-few days ago.  He sh-should be here be-before sundown.”   

“See?  There’s still hope.”  He kissed her forehead.  “Every little thing is gonna be alri-.”

He was interrupted by a hesitant knock.

“I’ll get it.” He offered, knowing Dawn would prefer not to meet anyone with red, puffy eyes. 

He opened the door to reveal a castle attendant holding a familiar, crinkly ocher envelope.

“From the Dark Forest, sir.”

Sunny took it from him with a low thank you and returned to Dawn, who had moved to perch on the edge of her bed. 

“It’s another message from Bog.”

“ _What_?!”

Dawn snatched the letter from his hands and blanched in horror.  She staggered up to her feet and her frantic gaze flew to the matching pile sitting on her vanity top.  She spun around with a wild gasp and her hands fisted in her hair. 

The released letter fluttered to the ground. 

“ ** _BOG_**!”  She shrieked as panicked tears brimmed over again and she sank to her knees.  “Oh no, poor _Bog_!  I forgot all _about_ him!  How could I be so _stupid_?!  He’s gotta be worried out of his _mind_ by now!”

She covered her face in her hands and rocked back and forth in her anguish.

“I’m such a complete _idiot_!  Bog and Marianne!  It’s all _my_ fault!  Oh my goodness, what am I gonna do?!  What am I gonna _DO_?!” 

“Dawn, Dawn!”  Sunny shouted, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a shake.  “Honey, _breathe_!      

 Her desperate eyes met the elf’s cinnamon orbs and she hiccupped. 

“It is _not_ your fault, Dawn!  _None_ of this is!  You’ve been _amazing_ these last weeks, ruling the kingdom by yourself _and_ helping take care of Marianne.  _Nobody_ could’ve done better!  You just got swamped, that’s all.   No one’s perfect, but you _can_ ’ _t_ blame _yourself_!  It’s okay, I’ll go get a scribe and we’ll have an urgent message sent to out to Bog, right away.  Then I’ll draw you a bath and get you something to eat and we’ll play a game while we wait for Master Philip, alright?  I’ll be right back!”

He was halfway to the door when Dawn’s choked, guilty voice stopped him short. 

“Sunny…Bog doesn’t…h-he doesn’t kn-know about this.”

“What?  What do you mean?”

“I mean he doesn’t know Marianne is _sick_ …at _all_.  She w-wouldn’t let me _tell_ him.  She thought she’d…be fine in-in just a couple of days…and she didn’t want to _upset_ him, so she…she asked m-me to say that…that she was just really busy and that…that she’d come to the Dark Forest as s-s-soon as she could.”

Sunny gulped as his earlier apprehensions spiked. 

This was _very_ bad. 

It was _one_ thing if Bog was just anxiously waiting for an update on Marianne’s state of health, but it was a _whole_ other _hornet’s nest_ if he hadn’t known _anything_ about her illness in the _first_ place!    

…and with her growing _weaker_ by the day!

 _Darn_ that Marianne and her _pride_!

If she… _died_ …or even if Master Philip arrived in the next _second_ and cured her, heads were going to _roll_ for this.

“What’ll w-we do?”

Sunny bit his lip.  Despite his dread, there was only _one_ thing _to_ do. 

 _What should’ve been done from the beginning_.

“The _right_ thing.  We’ve _got_ to tell Bog, _now_.”

Without another word, he left Dawn in her room and ran through the castle in search of a scribe.

In less than a half-hour, a new message was on its way to the Dark Forest.     

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 300+ hits, so here we are! God I was so terrified when my computer crashed and I thought I'd lost this chapter! I know a lot of you have been anxiously waiting for more to this story.  
> Anyway, I hope you guys like it! I worked very hard and it obviously was a nightmare to post. Lol

The poor fairy messenger didn’t know what to expect as he traversed the Dark Forest for the first time.  The carnivorous plants and hissing, venomous insects fit the legends he’d heard since childhood. 

But the goblins were far from the bloodthirsty savages he’d been dreading to meet, even if most of them _did_ glare and growl at him as he entered the foyer of the Bog King’s new castle and waited to be received by either the infamous monarch himself, or anyone else with the authorization to accept personal deliveries. 

Thank goodness he didn’t have to stand around in this shadowy place long, for two elf-sized goblins came huffing towards him before even five minutes had passed. 

“You have news from the Fairy Kingdom?”  The bulgy-eyed one excitedly asked.

“Y-Yes, for his majesty.” 

“Great!  We’ll make sure he gets it!”  The stout one promised and held out a green, webbed hand.

The other goblin smiled, revealing a row of thick, crooked teeth.

The messenger clumsily surrendered the royal letter and bid a hasty retreat.  There might be a new truce between the realms now, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be here after sundown. 

Stuff and Thang were almost singing with glee as they jogged through the castle in search of their boss.  Things had been absolutely rotten around here the past few weeks, even _more_ unbearable than they’d been during the two decades that love was forbidden. 

But it was going to be over with!  Now that Lady Marianne had finally responded!

They couldn’t _wait_ to see the look on their king’s face!

“He’s gonna be very _happy_!”

“Let _me_ tell him!”

“No way!” Thang groused, skidding to a halt and grabbing one side of the envelope.  “ _I_ wanna tell him!”

“Hands off!”  Stuff said brusquely, yanking on the other end.  “I saw it first!”

“Did _not_!”

“Did _too_!”

“Let _go_!”

“ _You_ let go!”

Both goblins froze in their tug-of-war as the nearest door in the hallway swung open and an irritated Griselda came stomping out towards them.

“ _What_ is going _on_ out _here_?!  How’s a lady supposed to take her beauty nap with all this _noise_?!  You two clowns better shut the-!”

Her rant was cut short the instant her eyes fell on the Fairy Kingdom’s royal seal.

“Is-?  Is _that_ what I _think_ it is?!”

“Um…”

“Er…”

“YIPPEE!”  The old queen squealed, snatching the envelope from the dumbstruck pair and tearing it open.  “I _knew_ it!  I _knew_ it would come!  I _knew_ she wouldn’t forget about my boy!  _BOG_!  BOGGY, COME OUT HERE!"

“Griselda,” Stuff protested, “that’s addressed to the _king_!  You shouldn’t open his mail!”

“Nonsense!”  She huffed, unfolding the letter and scanning the contents as she continued to speak.  “BOG!  HURRY _UP_!  I’ve been waiting just as long as _he_ has to hear from my future daughter-in-law.  It won’t hurt anybody for me to…be in…the…l-loop…”

Griselda’s eager, beady eyes grew wide with distress.  The corners of her grinning lips slid down her face like leaking sap from a tree. 

“Oh…oh, _no_.”

Concerned, Stuff took a step forward.

“What is it, Griselda?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Get out of here!”  Griselda ordered, trying to refold the letter and shove it back into the envelope, but her nerves were so agitated she just kept fumbling with the papers.

Stuff and Thang blinked at her in confusion. 

“Huh?”

“Why?”

“What for?”

“What did _we_ do?”

“ _DON’T_ ask me stupid _QUESTIONS_!”  Griselda barked, stooping to pick up the damn letter she’d dropped for the _third_ time by now.  “Just DO as I say and _GO_!”  

Flinching, the two goblin assistants turned tail and fled back down the hall just as the sound of beating insect wings approached from the other end.   

“WILL YE _STOP_ ALL THAT BLOODY _RACKET_ , MOTHER?!”  Bog yelled as he landed and marched over to her.  “HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YE TAH KEEP _QUIET_ WHILE I’M _WORKIN’_?!”  

Griselda ignored his grouchy attitude.  It was about to get monumentally _worse_.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to ease him into the dreadful news, for Bog’s annoyed eyes zeroed in on the rumpled letter.

“Wha’ is _that_?  Is that fer _me_?”  His expression suddenly lit up, daring to hope.  “Is that from the Fairy Kingdom?” 

Griselda backed away from him, moving the letter behind her. 

“Well, y-yes but-”

“Give it to me!” 

Bog advanced on her with an outstretched hand. 

“W-Wait a minute, Bog!”  His mother pleaded, dodging him.  “There’s something I need to-”

“Wha’ the hell are ye _doin_ ’?!  Bog demanded, chasing her around in an awkward circular dance.  “Have ye lost yer _mind_?!  I said, _gimme_ that!”

 _Curse his long limbs_!  Griselda thought as her son finally managed to grab onto the letter.  Panicking, she held fast. 

“Bog, please hold on, I-”

“ _GIVE_ IT TO ME!”

Unable to compete with his strength in her advanced years, Griselda stumbled backwards as Bog ripped the letter out of her grasp and spread it's wrinkled surface open.  The envelope drifted to their feet. 

“What’s the _matter_ with you?”  He grumbled before turning to hungrily read the letter he’d been so impatient for. 

Griselda clutched her hands to her chest, praying to the fates for mercy on her son and his fairy lover. 

Bog’s anxious face transformed horribly.  The fervent light in his blue orbs darkened with fear as they scanned lower and lower along the message.  His mouth parted and quivered.  His breath grew from inaudible to heaving as he started to hyperventilate.  His shoulder plates rattled and his wings trembled. 

He was _terrified_. 

And there was only _one_ way Bog knew how to deal with terror… 

Griselda winced as she watched his shaking claws crush the letter.  The paper tore like flesh and the crinkling was as loud as snapping bones in her ears.  His lips drew back, baring his fangs in a snarl as the ruined parchment slid from his fingers and joined the envelope on the floor.         

…with _rage_.

Now fearful for _every_ living creature within a _thousand_ -mile radius, Griselda cautiously stepped forward with her hands raised, as if her son was about to burst into flames.

“Bog…honey, n-now just-”

The thunderous roar that burst from Bog’s throat made her jump back in fright.  In less than one beat of her elderly heart, he was a grey and iridescent blur flying over her head and streaking down the corridor. 

“ _BOG_!  BOG, SWEETHEART, _WAIT_!  COME _BACK_!”  

Her echoing cries failed to penetrate her son’s deaf ears and temper him with some semblance of reason. 

He was too far gone now.  More beast than goblin. 

And only _one_ thought pulsed through his racing mind:

 _Marianne_!  _Marianne_!  _Marianne_! 

Bog didn’t have the faintest idea how he managed to successfully navigate through his new castle to the throne room, where he’d left his staff, but once he felt the heavy metal of his weapon in his hand, he shot up through the skylight and headed straight for the Fairy Kingdom. 

Any unfortunate goblin, mushroom, spider web, or even fern with the _audacity_ to cross his path, was harshly struck aside.  He ignored the shrieks of alarm and pain.  He cared only for the welfare of his mate.

Whatever had poisoned her would taste pure _hell_.

As soon as he broke through the Primrose line, Bog immediately caught sight of Marianne’s boulder-castle in the sunlit distance.  Thankfully, the fairies, elves and dragonflies had the good sense to flee from the crazed goblin king as he closed in on the fortress.  A few dandelion and tulip heads were not so lucky. 

The guards flanking the main entrance were stunned a moment too long by Bog’s presence to properly defend themselves as he knocked them away and crashed through the massive double doors.

The startled castle attendants staggered back in horror as the Bog King loomed over them, turning his head in every direction, trying to catch Marianne’s scent and pinpoint her location in this nauseatingly symmetrical place, with its garish gold accents, ridiculous rainbow windows and impractical indoor fountains! 

 _There_! 

He took off up a grand flight of stairs peeking out from an upper level veranda and zipped through the passages as if they were on fire.  A scullery maid dove out of his way, narrowly avoiding being hit by his unyielding shoulder.

Once or twice, he heard someone shout, ‘your majesty, wait!’, but he paid them no heed.   

None would distract him.  None would detain him. 

The scent led him to another pair of large doors and he threw them open with such power, they wrenched halfway off the hinges.

Then time slowed to the gait of a snail.

For one brief, desperate moment, Bog hoped that the creature on the bed before him _wasn’t_ Marianne and that this was all just some cruel joke. 

The colors…

…the colors were _wrong_!

 _White_ wings.

 _White_ skin.

 _White_ eyes.

 _White_ tunic.

All laying on _white_ bed sheets.

In a _white_ room.

Bog’s stomach twisted.

White was the color of _bones_ ; the color of _maggots_.

 _Death_! 

But no, there was absolutely _no_ mistaking that scent and that voice.

It _was_ Marianne and she was _alive_!

The relief was bittersweet.  He only found himself in a new nightmare.

He couldn’t understand what he was s _eeing_.  The letter said that Marianne was gravely ill, so why was she thrashing around with so much energy?  Why was she making so many unintelligible sounds?  What was _happening_ to her?! 

He didn’t have the touch of a second to dwell on it.  His circle of focus grew and he saw four hooded figures in light slate-grey robes trying to pin her flailing limbs to the bed. 

 _Filthy flies_!  _Keep away from her_!  _SHE’S NOT DEAD_!!! 

They each were looking at him with identical expressions of surprise and trepidation.  A blonde one wrestling with Marianne’s left arm seemed to be frantically saying something to him, but Bog couldn’t process any stranger’s words anymore.

If Marianne was _fighting_ them, then they were _enemies_!  

As soon as he decided this, her right leg kicked out.  The motion made her sweat-soaked tunic ride up dangerously high, nearly exposing her to the open air.  To readjust his grip, the second whelp’s hand accidently slid inside her thigh.

It was his _biggest_ mistake.   

 _DORN’T TOUCH MY MATE_!!!  

Lost to his goblin instincts, Bog’s growl of fury was deafening as he lunged forward and swung his staff out, catching the foolish youth with the amber end and slamming his body hard against the wall. 

The predator in his blood grinned at the satisfying crack of skull hitting stone. 

Then the screaming ensued.

With murder in his eyes, Bog moved towards his remaining prey, but something grabbed him from behind.  A small company of fairy guards swarmed around him, restraining his arms and legs.

“LET GO O’ ME!”  He bellowed in a demon’s tone as he tossed them off left and right.  “GET YER BLUDY HANDS OFF ME!  I’LL KILL YE ALL!”

The continuous stream of sentries soon pushed him almost all the way down to his knees.  There was a metallic screech of a sword being drawn, but to Bog, it was indistinguishable from the sharp and growing ring in his ears.

“No, _stop_!  Don’t you _dare_ hurt him!  Stand down!  Bog!  Bog, listen to me!  It’s okay!”

The command came from a higher and somewhat familiar voice, and before he could blink twice, the source was suddenly blocking his view of Marianne.

“Bog, you _have_ to calm _down_!”

 _No_.

 _Wrong_!  _Wrong_!  _Wrong_!

 _Not yellow and pink_! 

 _I want BROWN and VIOLET_!

“Bog, it’s _me_!  Snap out of it, _please_!”

He snarled at the intruder, snapping his jaws to bite.

“ _BOG_ , _STOP IT_!!!”

A stinging force whipped Bog’s head to the side and the monster’s red haze broke.

The insufferable ringing in his ears was gone.  The only sounds he could hear in the room were Marianne’s delirious whimpers and his own shuddering breaths.  He felt cold.

Slowly, he raised his head to survey the room with precariously stronger sense.

The hooded figures were _not_ scavenging flies, nor were they mating _rivals_.  They were fairy _healers_.  Two of which were helping the one he’d thrown, into a nearby vacant hospital bed.    

Marianne’s skin _was_ indeed pale, but her wings were simply wrapped up in gauze to prevent them from being damaged.

But that still didn’t explain her fierce writhing and moaning!

Unless…

…was _this_ what it meant for a _fairy_ to be _sick_?        

Bog’s thumping heart clenched and he leaned against his captors in her direction, aching to do something, _anything_ , to soothe her!  To _protect_ her!

 _My Tough Girl_!

 _My Wild Thing_!

 _My **love**_!

“Bog, I know you’re upset…” the childlike voice spoke again.

… _Imadeitspecialforyou-Pleasetellmeyourname-MyBoggyWoggyKingyWingy_ …

 _Dawn_!

“…but this isn’t going to help Marianne.”

He felt the young fairy princess take his arm and try to pull him away.  The other arresting hands hesitantly released him at her insistence, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Bog _please_ , there’s _nothing_ you can do for her right now, so just _come_ with _me_.”

The following stretch of silence was torture, but Dawn felt her heartrate ease with the knowledge that she’d just averted a crisis once Bog finally gave into her gentle tugging with a broken sigh. 

She had no idea what fresh turmoil her words had inflicted.

As Bog numbly followed Dawn out of the hospital wing, he couldn’t drown out the quiet chanting in his brain:

… _there’s nothing you can do for her right now_...

… _there’s nothing you can do for her_ …

… _nothing_ _you can do for her_ …

… _nothing you can do…_

… _nothing…_

… _nothing_ …

… _nothing_ …

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bog...  
> More to come soon! Leave a comment or a kudos! They help me write faster <3  
> 300 hits, and I'll give you darlings a new story/chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, part 3! Sorry for the wait! Time for some more angsty Bog.  
> Hope you guys enjoy <3

Not a word was spoken as the youngest fairy princess led the goblin king through the polished corridors and out to a private courtyard garden on the south side of the castle.

Shaded and sheltered by a lush, young elm on the opposite side of the palace wall, groves of baby tulips, daisies and lilies coated the small clearing in the center where a lone, stone bench resided next to another water fountain.  Streams of early afternoon sunlight painted strips of soft white along the pavement and splayed petals.

Though Bog had never been particularly partial to flowers, perhaps on another day he might have considered them somewhat charming, but now he couldn’t even begin to process their vibrant colors or sweet aromas. 

Instead, everything was grey, scentless and cold, like the deadest hour of an unforgiving winter.    

Completely numb, he allowed Dawn to guide him to a sitting position on the bench.  He didn’t notice her hands hovering over his shoulders, unsure of what to do.

“Wait here, okay?”  She ultimately said.  “I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t reply.  He didn’t even hear her leave.  He just sat there, silently feeling the whole world crumble around him like his old fortress.  Images of Marianne, thrashing and sweating on that hospital bed, delirious from her deadly fever, flashed and sparked behind his eyes. 

Slashing them.

Burning them. 

_There’s nothing you can do for her right now._

_Nothing you can do._

His Tough Girl was dying, and he could do _nothing_ about it.  This was not a threat he could strike with his staff, nor punch, kick, bite or claw away.

Yes, he knew, better than _anyone_ , that Marianne could take care of herself, but if she ever _couldn’t_ handle something on her own, he was supposed to help defend her.  It was his privilege as her consort; her lover.

Her _mate_ … 

…and he had failed her.    

His vision blurred and stung with wetness he hadn’t felt since his youth.  With it, a voice came: unbidden and unforgiving.

_...So now yer goin’ tah cry, are ye…_

Suddenly, it was years and years ago.  He was a child again, staring up at an all too familiar shadowy and menacing form.

_…Ye useless whelp…_

The towering monster grew closer, as if invisible hands were raising Bog to its eye-level. 

_…Can’t even protect yer mate…_

A hideous, scornful smile stretched across its scarred lips. 

_…Yer no’ worthy o’ my crown, boy…_

Cruel, midnight blue eyes glared at him.

_…Wha’ kind o’ king are ye…_

Bog clenched his eyes shut.

_…Worthless…_

_Shut up._

He bared his fangs.

_…Pathetic…_

_Shutupshutupshutup!_

He clutched his head in his hands as the creature in his delusion stepped back, and Bog saw to his horror, the shimmering pane of a mirror outlining his own reflection.  The phantom twin opened its mouth and spoke in the gravely, snarling voice of his father.  

_…Weak…_

“SHUT UP, YE DEAD **_BASTARD_**!!!”

Roaring, Bog shot up from his seat and attacked his surroundings.  He clawed and tore at the infuriating blossoms, mocking him with their perfect representation of nature’s health and beauty. 

_It’s not fair._

If he couldn’t kill what was threatening Marianne, by hell, he'd kill _something_.  The dew drops and liquid chlorophyll was as good as blood on his hands.  He scratched deep grooves into the elm’s bark and sliced grass blades into countless shreds.        

_It’s not fair._

Several birds and dragonflies took to the air in alarm from his screaming and wanton violence.  A terrified squirrel darted through the brush, chittering its distress.        

_IT’S NOT FAIR!_

In a final act of rage, he wrenched the water fountain bowl from the ground and hurled it as far as he could.  It smashed against a nearby rock with the sound of thunder. 

.

.

.

Spent, Bog sank to his knees. 

Strangely, even though he’d vented his anger, he felt heavier.  Like each and every one of his scales had turned to iron and were dragging him into the soil.    A ball of ice sat in his chest draining his breath and leaving nothing but acid behind in his limbs. 

It wasn’t right for him to feel this way.  In all honesty, the Briar King had been tough, but _never_ that spiteful.  Nevertheless, Bog had grown up comparing everything to his father; the implemented image of pure strength and prowess in his mind’s eye.

But his warped memories were beside the point.  The only thing that mattered right now, was Marianne. 

It wasn’t fair. 

What had he done to deserve this?  Was he never supposed to have what he wanted?  Was this fate’s way of punishing him for being foolish enough to think that just because she’d smiled at him, kissed him, and sang some ridiculous song that he could keep her forever?  For thinking that he _did_ deserve to be loved? 

 _Ye can’t take her!  Ye can’t!  I’ve been waiting so long for her and I’ve only just found her!  Ye can’t!  It’s not fair!  Please!  Dorn’t take her away from me!_   _I need her!  I love her!  Please, dorn’t!_

How would he ever come back from this?  He had shut off his entire kingdom and banned any and all public mentions and displays of love when he’d been rejected in his youth.  But _this_ …

To lose love through death…

…there would be no real recovery from this. 

Without Marianne, he knew he would fall back into that black time and place, but this time it would be deeper.

Lonelier. 

Colder. 

No, he would not outlaw love in the Dark Forest again.  Only in himself; and it would be a fit penance.  By goblin culture, if one couldn’t protect their mate, they were considered nothing but pure filth.  There would be no third chance.

Bog didn’t want one, anyway.  Now that he’d finally had a taste of not only real, but also _mutual_ love, he knew he could never love anyone else in the same way he loved Marianne. 

A subdued, logical voice in his head tried to argue against his pessimism.  There were no certainties.  He knew nothing about Marianne’s condition other than what he’d witnessed and what Dawn had written in her letter.  Marianne could still get better and everything would be fine. 

If only Bog had more faith in his odds.  Too many years of repeated disappointment had hardened him against the idea of good fortune.

When Dawn returned, she wisely chose not to comment on the floral destruction around them.  There was a white bandage wrapped around her right hand.  She must’ve cut it when she slapped him earlier.  In her free hand, was a crystal water goblet filled with an unfamiliar, russet-colored liquid.    

“Here, drink this.”

When he didn’t reach for the draft, Dawn leaned in and carefully pressed the glass to Bog’s lips and tilted it forward, spilling the contents into his mouth.

He gulped it down impassively, without even registering the taste.

“It’s cognac.”  She needlessly explained in an attempt to fill the silence as she sat down beside him in the dirt.  “We make it from grapes.  My dad sometimes drinks it to help him relax.” 

There was no response, so Dawn remained quiet and gazed at a low cloud hanging above the distant tree line.  A breeze combed through the warzone around them.  The shadows crawled across the earth like snails.    

At long last, Bog found the strength to swallow a mouthful of dry air and ask:

“Is she goin’ to die?”

Dawn automatically opened her mouth to give a resounding negative, but her throat faltered before she could make a sound. 

It would be _beyond_ heartless to give Bog false assurances.  Had he not suffered enough?  The least she could do was be _honest_ with him, even if the answer was far from consoling.   

“I don’t know, Bog.”

She winced at his shuddering and barely audible inhale of pain.

“Her condition _is_ very serious, but there’s still hope!”  She rushed to assuage.  “We’re waiting for a certain Healer to arrive.  He’ll be here any minute and he’s the best in the kingdom!”  

The note was barely comforting.  All Bog could salvage from it was that Marianne’s only possible chance resided in the hands of someone else.  Another male. 

“I dorn’t……understand.”  He croaked, thinking back to Marianne’s writhing and whimpering form.  “What’s _wrong_ with her?  _Who_ did this to her?”

“No one did this to her, Bog.  She’s just very sick.”

“That’s not-!”  He bit off a growl to control his frustration.  “Ye dorn’t jus’ get sick for no reason!  Somethin' ‘as to _make_ ye sick!  Was it a bite?  A sting?  Poison in ‘er food?  What _was_ it?!”

“Bog, I…I don’t know how it is for _goblins_ , but it’s not that simple with fairies.”

“What do ye mean?”

“I mean that, we can get sick because of those things,” she clarified,” but that’s not what happened in _this_ case.  Nothing attacked Marianne.  She got sick because of germs.”

“Germs?”  Bog repeated, deeply confused.  “What are germs?”

“Germs are…well, they’re…..they’re like teeny-tiny bugs; smaller than dust.  If you don’t take good care of yourself, they can make you sick.  Marianne was so busy taking care of the kingdom, she didn’t get enough food or sleep.  That’s why she wasn’t able to fight off the germs.”

“Fight off-?”

“Not like fight off with a sword.  It’s more like the…… _inside_ of her body was trying to keep the germs away, but she was too tired to win.  Do you…see what I’m saying?”

“I…I……NO!”  Bog shouted, almost tearing the scales from his head.  “Tha’ doesn’t make _any_ sense at all!”  

“I’m-I’m _sorry_ , Bog!”  Dawn sniffled, recoiling from him.  “I don’t know how to ex-explain it any _clearer_!  I’m not a-a Healer, so I can’t-!”

“No, no, no!”  The king sighed, shamed by the tears in her voice.  “It’s no’ yer fault.  It’s just……I dorn’t know what to _do_!”

The wetness returned and could not be stopped as it trailed down his pale cheeks.

“Dawn, I……I…can’t…….I _can’t_.  No’ w-without _her_.  I just _can’t_.”

Somehow, the younger princess knew he didn’t mean he would take his own life.  As a monarch, he had far too many responsibilities; far too many lives depending on him. 

However, one thing was for certain: if Marianne died, what Bog would do afterwards could never be described as _living_.  He would simply go through the motions of surviving.  Eating, sleeping, trudging through each and every day like a ghost; a broken shell devoid of feeling.  How could one truly _live_ with an empty heart?

A tidal wave of sisterly love and guilt crashed over Dawn as she practically threw herself at Bog, wrapping her arms around his quivering shoulders and holding him as tight as she could while he cried. 

“Oh, Bog!  I’m so, so sorry!  This _is_ all my fault!”

“No,” Bog said, pulling away.  “I dorn’t blame you.”

“But you _should_!  It was stupid of me to forget to respond to your letters, but I never should’ve agreed to keep it all a secret in the first place!”

Bog tensed at that.

“What?”

 Dawn bit her lip and could not meet his desperate eyes as she whispered:

“Marianne made me promise not to tell you she was sick.” 

Frozen, Bog could only unseeingly stare at the younger princess.  He felt like he’d just been kicked in the stomach.  The skin under his plates itched and there was a held out whine in his ears. 

_She……she didn’t even……want me to……_

His thoughts were snapped by a unfamiliar voice:

“Your majesty!”

Both royals looked up to see a castle attendant, touching down before them and panting from the speed of his hurried flight. 

“Your majesty, you must come at once!”

“What’s happened?”  Dawn demanded.

“The princess!  She’s asking for _you_ , lord Bog King!” 

Bog’s armor shifted as he automatically stood, though he still tried to tame the hopeful fluttering in his belly from blazing into a wildfire.  If Marianne was able to say his name…… now was _definitely_ not the time to get upset over what he’d just learned.

Still, his renewed insecurities kept him rooted to the spot instead of storming through the grand halls a second time in search of his fairy love. 

“When Master Philip arrived, he gave her a draught to help sedate her and-”

“Wait!”  Dawn exclaimed, scrambling to her feet.  “Master Philip is here?!  Why wasn’t I informed?!”

“Forgive me, your highness!”  The servant bowed.  “But Master Philip said that…useless introductions just waste time the…patient doesn’t have.”

Dawn gave an indignant huff and a stamp of her foot.

“The Princess Marianne has been calling for the Bog King for the past few minutes.  Master Philip says we should adhere to her wishes.  Please, follow me!”   

The messenger disappeared back inside the castle, but Bog remained unable to move.  Every fiber of his sharp, fierce being ached to go to Marianne’s side immediately, but at the same time, he was scared of what waited ahead.

What if it was all in vain?

What if this Master Philip couldn’t save her?

…or…

What if she _did_ get well…and told him the real reason why she kept her illness a secret from him?

.

.

.

And what if that reason was his worst _fear_?

.

.

.

The one that had been _plaguing_ him for these past few weeks?

A soft, slender hand gripped his own and temporarily broke through the haze of doubts clouding his mind. 

“Come on, Bog.”  Dawn prompted.  “Marianne needs you.”

Bog cracked his neck and straightened his spine.  He was a _king_ , and kings had to be strong.  For now, he would forget the uncertainties and be there for his mate in any way he could. 

As he let Dawn lead him through the palace again, he internally prayed for the best outcome and for the answers he wanted to hear.           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I just LOVE Dawn! Her comforting Bog is so adorable to me! :D  
> Leave me a comment or kudos to let me know what you thought <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this chapter done! Gonna lighten the mood a bit with ol' Master Philip here, but we ain't outta the angst woods yet. Hope you guys enjoy!

Navigating the fairy castle halls a second time was jarring in its opposition. 

Before, Bog had tunnel vision, making the building around him seem narrow and tight.  The confining atmosphere had done nothing to temper his rage and terror.  As a matter of fact, it amplified those reckless feelings. 

Now, the emotions were cut in half, the rage was mostly gone and the terror remained, but it was different.  This time, it didn’t make his blood race in his veins.  Instead, it rattled his scales and prickled the skin underneath.  The gold-lined palace appeared colossal and made him feel no bigger than a dust speck.  Not an easy feat for a creature with his unusual height. 

It was not unlike the unease Bog used to feel as a child, on his way to confess an act of disobedience to his father.  Whatever lay ahead for him, he feared it.  Was he about to be punished?  If so, what for? 

Doubting…or hoping? 

The fairy castle servants froze and silently cowered as the trio passed them, fearful of any more emotional displays from the sharp, towering goblin king.  He fisted his hands to keep from wincing at the harsh sound of the group's echoing footsteps.  His stomach turned over once they finally reached the broken, creaking door of the hospital wing.                  

Of course, the first thing Bog noticed was Marianne. 

She was still moaning and squirming on the bed and one of the Healers was dabbing her face with a wet cloth and holding her wrist to monitor her pulse.  The rest of the Healers, one of which was sporting a bandage around his head, were crowded around a side table next to the bed.  There was a curious sound of clinking glass coming from the other side of their concealing robes. 

Were they mixing a drug or something?

Bog’s staff was propped against the left wall by the window.   

“His majesty, the Bog King, is here, Master Philip.”  The messenger announced.

“Yes, yes, yes.”  A croaking, elderly voice dismissed.  “Thank you very much.  Let him tend to the princess, immediately!”

The messenger nodded and stepped to the side, gesturing for Bog to go on ahead, but unfortunately, the goblin just……couldn’t move. 

Marianne still didn’t seem to be aware of anyone’s presence, but she was writhing and pitifully muttering his name in her delirium.  She even appeared to be flinching away from the young Healer trying to comfort her.

 _What good can I do?_ Bog thought miserably.   _She doesn't know what she's saying, what if she really doesn't want-?_   

“Bog?”

He didn’t register Dawn’s address, nor her tentative touch on his arm.    

“Bo-ooooooog!” Marianne softly cried as she continued to blindly toss and turn.  “Mmmmm…….ah…ngh!  Bo-hoooog!”  

“Hurry up!”  The still-hidden voice barked.  “ _Quickly_ , man!  Don’t you hear her _crying_?!”

Flinching out of his stupor, Bog obediently rushed to Marianne’s side and reached for her writing body.  

Her flesh was blazing from the fever and slick with sweat, but as Bog sat on the bed and gathered her into his arms, her thrashing died down to a shiver and she curled into his chest with a barely audible whimper. 

“Ah, that’s better.”  The voice spoke again, most likely referring to the peace that had befallen the princess.  “There’s no relief quite like young love.  Not as useful as actual medicine in situations like these, of course, but it has its moments of required use.” 

It was only the shuffle of movement to Bog’s right that drew his attention away from his poor love.  He looked up at the precise moment the owner of the mysterious voice stepped out from behind the group of Healers. 

This fellow, Bog could only assume was Master Philip, was a withered, balding old man with wire spectacles, a crooked walking stick and glassy hazel eyes.  He initially mistook him for an elf.  He seemed awfully short for a fairy, but there was no mistaking the goldenrod and brown wings.  Perhaps he was _half_ elf.  The thought, though fleeting, comforted the goblin about Dawn and Sunny’s future prospects until the Healer broke the silence again.

“Well, it seems the yarrow has made her more coherent, but the fever has yet to break.”  He muttered to his subordinates as he waddled over to the bed and tipped a glass of ochre-colored liquid into Marianne’s mouth.  “If you chaps don’t have any more ginger, then I need someone to fetch some elderflower.  She’s not quite out of danger, yet, but with her consort by her side now, she’ll have some strength we cannot afford to waste, so I thank you, good sir.  Your presence here is most…”

During his speech, the old fairy had looked up at Bog to express his gratitude, but trailed off almost the instant he caught sight of him.   

“Wait a moment!”  Master Philip blinked owlishly at him through his thick spectacles.  “You’re a _goblin_!”

“Yes-?”  Bog bit back a growl, ready to snap at any ignorant comment the old geezer might have.

“Do you mean to tell me,” the old fairy began as he turned to face the others, “that the princess has been courting a goblin, a goblin that’s been on the grounds worried sick for the past _hour_ , and _none_ of you did _anything_ about it?!”

“We...uh, we…” one of them stammered, “we thought-”

“FOOLS!  IDIOTS!  NINCAMPOOPS!  BLOCKHEADS!”  Master Philip screeched, whacking the scrambling healers in the shins with his cane.  “Don’t you twits know the first thing about medicine?!  The goblin immune system is one of the strongest in all of nature!  Why, a simple blood transfusion would’ve had the poor girl back on her feet _weeks_ ago, you buffoons!”

“We’re-We’re sorry, Master Philip!”  Another Healer exclaimed, covering his head with his hands.  “The kingdoms have been divided for so long, we’ve lost all our texts on goblin-based remedies!  Relations have been cut off for twenty years!”

“What utter nonsense!  Why, back in my day, it was perfectly acceptable to head straight to the Dark Forest’s border to ask for a pint of donated goblin blood when someone was deathly ill!” 

Bog quirked a confused eyebrow at the Master Healer.  Just how old was this guy?  Not even his father’s reign had been that generous.  Still, he felt a flood of bitter guilt in his stomach at the mention of the two-decade-long stagnation between the kingdoms.

If he hadn’t been such a foolish child and shut everyone out, Marianne would be healthy and happy right _now_!  He didn’t even want to _think_ about how many lost fairy lives could’ve been saved with shared goblin blood.     

His dreary musings were distracted by the sight of an unfamiliar device being placed on the bedside table.  It appeared to be a small glass canister with two inner chambers.  A pump handle sat on the top of the lid and there were two, thin rubber hoses.

“Your blood is precisely what she needs to get well, you majesty.” Master Philip said as he secured a syringe he’d pulled from his robes to each of the tubes.  “So I’m just going to perform a transfusion.  You have my word, it will only take a few moments. ”

Keeping his eyes on Marianne, Bog extended his arm without hesitation.

“Take every drop if ye have to.”

Master Philip paused in momentary surprise before giving the goblin king a kind smile. 

“Thank you for the tenacity, your majesty, but fortunately, that won’t be necessary.  Just a few millileters will suffice.  However, I must extract some of her own blood first.  To, essentially, make room in her body for yours.”

While the old fairy busied himself with the medical contraption, one of the younger Healers nervously approached and picked up one of the connecting syringes.  His fumbling fingers made the sharp needle quiver and almost drop to the bed sheets twice as he gulped and reached for the princess’s arm.   

Annoyed, Bog snarled at him and drew back, re-securing his protective hold around Marianne.  She whined and twitched at the motion. 

“Oh, get out of the way!”  Master Philip scolded, brushing the stripling aside and taking the needle.  He respectfully bowed to the Bog King, awaiting permission to touch his mate.  “With your blessing, your majesty, please allow _me_.  I assure you, she will feel no pain from this, and she will be awake before the morn.”   

Though the thought of pricking Marianne’s skin still agitated Bog, the assurance and professional manner of Master Philip helped to assuage his concerns.  To his own shock, he _trusted_ this fairy.

So he eased his grasp and let the Healer take Marianne’s right arm.  

A hushed cry left the princess’s throat when the needle expertly pierced the skin inside the crook of her elbow and Bog had to bite his tongue to keep from growling, but the old Healer worked swiftly to secure the attached hose and work the pump. 

The goblin king chewed his lip as Marianne’s basil-green fairy blood seeped through the tube and eventually dribbled into the left section of the canister.  He was barely aware of Master Philip steadily injecting the other needle into the underside of his _own_ forearm.  His goblin blood was wine-red and Bog watched the two clashing colors fill side-by-side.   

Once set, Master Philip extracted the hose from Bog’s arm and pressed a patch of sticky spider gauze to the tiny wound.  The old fairy then pressed a switch on the top of the canister which resulted in the pea-pod shaped protrusion to pop out from the bottom.  It was a clear cylinder, filled with Bog’s blood.  Next, he switched the syringe in Marianne’s arm with the cylinder and pushed down on the tiny plunger at the opposite end until all the goblin blood was successfully out of the container and flowing into Marianne’s veins.  He wordlessly waved for the remaining Healers to take the blood canister and all the other now superfluous medicines away.  As they bustled about, he stared hard at the princess.

“Come on now, my dear.”  He murmured.  “Come on.”

It seemed to take forever, and Bog’s unblinking eyes ached from focusing on Marianne’s face, but at last, her trembling ceased, her breath evened out to a muted sigh, and her pained expression relaxed as her whole body melted against his.

“That’s it.”  Master Philip praised.  “She’s going to be quite alright now.”          

Bog felt as if a tremendous boulder had been lifted off of his back and he practically sagged into the pillows behind him.  Overcome, he rocked Marianne back and forth and bowed his head over hers to plant a kiss in her hair.   

He remained unaware of Dawn’s joyous weeping.  

“Thank ye.”  He whispered to Master Philip, more grateful than he could hope to convey.

“Not at all, your majesty.  I am honored to work with a goblin once again.  She is fortunate to have your regard.”

_Oh, yer wrong, my friend.  I am the fortunate one.  As long as she loves me._

Soon, he would see if that condition was still present in the fairy princess’s heart, despite her deception.  

* * *

Strange…

The night was unusually quiet and dark.  Marianne couldn’t hear a single cricket or cicada chirp.  There was no rustle of leaves in the wind.  Occasionally, she’d hear a rumbling.  Thunder perhaps?  No.  No, it sounded like a voice.  Did she know it?  It was deep and soothing, she knew that much. 

The only light came from two cobalt blue stars overhead.  How curious.  She was certain she’d never seen stars like that before, but they were absolutely beautiful, nonetheless.  Their ever-present forms were comforting in an oddly familiar way and they were all she could see in the endless sea of blackness around her.  Was there a lunar eclipse or something? 

She could feel no ground under her feet, but she didn’t think she was flying.  This felt more like floating.  Yes, she felt like she was floating through this empty void.  But, that wasn’t possible.  Right?  You couldn’t defy gravity without wings. 

Unless… 

Unless she was dreaming.  Except this didn’t seem like a dream.  At least, not exactly.  Yeah it was weird, but she was still perfectly aware of the warmth around her.  There was a rough, but pleasant, texture along her right side.  Was she pressed against a tree?  And every once in a while, she could swear she heard other voices besides the deep one.  The first was smooth like cream, but high and chirping like a bird.  The second was more animated; warbled and quick, like bubbling water in a pot.  Her favorite was the third one.  It was deep, gravely and soothed her all over, like a massage, hot soup and a comforter in winter all rolled into one!

As time passed, she found herself more and more fascinated by those two stars.  They seemed close enough to touch.  Were they really even stars?  What if they were gems?  Sapphires?  The thought made her ache to touch them.

But…

Her arms wouldn’t work.  Nor would her legs. 

Now that she thought about it, her entire body felt pretty heavy with exhaustion.  No, she couldn’t fall asleep yet!  Not before she reached those star-gems!  They were the only other thing here with her in the darkness.  Somehow, the more she focused on that feeling of wanting to touch them, the brighter they seemed to become, though their size remained the same. 

Soon, something was forming around them.  Was it the tree she thought she was leaning against?  It couldn’t be.  Trees didn’t have faces and they didn’t breathe.  Bit by bit, she could see a form appearing.  Those blue lights weren’t stars or gems; they were _eyes_. 

And she’d know them anywhere!

The blurred ceiling of a nondescript room became discernable behind that wonderfully familiar face and body at the same time Marianne realized she’d been sleeping and had now fully returned to the waking world.                  

Slowly blinking into focus, she could finally see the Bog King’s face clearly. 

His prickly jaw was set and those thin lips she could kiss forever were pursed in a grim line.  His scaly brow was drawn down over his brilliant eyes, which glared at her with determination suggesting his aim was to memorize every detail in front of him.  Unshed tears laced his dark grey lids. 

She was in a _lot_ of trouble.

Regardless, she had to talk to him, though her voice sliding through her chapped lips was nothing more than a croak.

“Bo……Boooo-guh?”

He didn’t say a word, but his reaction was instantaneous.  His exhale was harsh with pained relief and he practically crushed her to him in a desperate embrace, burying his face against her neck and shoulder.

“Bo-Bog!”  She struggled to say as she felt him subtly, but rapidly kiss her flesh three times.  “Bog, I-I want to-to expl-!”

“Trust me,” he growled, pressing his forehead against her shoulder, “we will discuss this _very_ thoroughly later, but right now, I dorn’t wanna talk.  I jus’ wanna hold you.  Alright?  So please, dorn’t say a word.”

His tone brooked no argument, and she was already dreading their future conversation, but Bog’s arms felt so good around her, the panic of trying to think of what she would tell him when the time came, practically faded into nonexistence.  For as long as he would allow, she was content to rest against his body…

…listen to his heartbeat…

…breath in his wild scent… 

… _fall_ into him…

Everything else, would come in its own time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward, angsty convo in the next chapter! Comment and kudos make me write faster.


	5. Chapter 5

Three days had passed since Marianne’s fever broke and she’d regained consciousness.  They had been hectic, to say the least.

Dawn was a weeping mess.  Marianne had nearly blacked out from the force of the hug she’d received from her little sister when she saw her for the first time since waking, and when she wasn’t being suffocated, she was being soaked wet with salty tears and having her ear chewed off by a steady stream of light-hearted scolding, and apologies that were for both her and Bog.  Needless apologies for aiding in the lie, for forgetting about the letters, for everything.  Thankfully, Sunny was usually there to rein her in as best he could, though Marianne had felt a horrible icy lump of dread in her stomach once it was made clear that Bog hadn’t been informed of her illness, nor (other than Dawn’s urgent letter) heard a _single_ word from the Fairy Kingdom, for nearly a _month_.

It was Master Philip who led the charge in keeping things under control: slipping Dawn a mild sedative or two, overseeing the checkups, and shooing the younger Healers and any other unwanted visitors away so Marianne and Bog could continue to have their privacy.  As a matter of fact, Sunny was proving himself to be a far more competent assistant than any of the apprentices.  The little guy could run like the wind and sometimes Master Philip’s requests were only halfway past his lips before Sunny was back with whatever plant, tool, or other item he needed; the look on the old fairy doctor’s face was always priceless.  Several times, she’d seen Master Philip pull the young elf aside and ask him if he’d ever considered a career in medicine.  Well, that was definitely great for Sunny.  Too bad, her only complaint was that nearly every time she saw the old healer, he’d have some sort of ice-cold liquid to tip down her throat that tasted like vinegar. For a speedier recovery, he’d insist, despite her gagging protests.

Her father had returned in a frantic state the day before yesterday, demanding explanations and such.  For the most part, his worry had been typical of a parent, until he’d callously suggested that perhaps her illness had been a result of all the ‘questionable’ goblin food she’d been consuming all summer, and that Bog should receive some sort of punishment for ‘storming into his castle and attacking his subjects’. 

Well, _that_ had certainly sent Dawn into a screaming rage.  Good thing too, for Marianne had been too weak to yell at him herself, since he’d been insensitive enough to mutter it within both her _and_ Bog’s earshot.  Thankfully, Master Philip had been quick to shut the Fairy King down and sharply assure him that it had been a combination of fatigue, malnutrition, and the lowering temperature of the changing season and not, to quote: ‘goblin food fiddle-faddle’.  Plus, once Dagda had been informed that a transfusion using goblin blood had saved his eldest child’s life, he remained stifled for the rest of his visits.  

As for Bog, until an hour ago, he hadn’t left her side for anything short of a restroom trip.  He’d fluff her pillows, tuck her blankets, and feed her broth, but other than that, he was unnervingly silent and still.  Any words he would offer from time to time were short, low, monosyllabic, and rarely directed at her.  No, more often than not, all he would do was just sit and stare, either at some nondescript spot on the wall, the bed, or the floor.  He was deliberately _refusing_ to meet her eye.

Not that she dared to push him otherwise, despite her longing.  His cold shoulder was more than she deserved. 

On the other hand, Dawn was _not_ so willing to accept Bog’s determination to hold his tongue, nor her sister’s own hesitation to speak out.  She knew they both needed and _wanted_ to talk, it was just that neither of them had the slightest clue what to say, much less, how to say it correctly.  Regardless, one thing was for certain: _no_ true healing could hope to begin unless they at least tried.  Tact be damned.

So, that was why she now found herself sitting at her vanity, waiting for Bog to join her in her bedchambers.  Despite Dawn’s rather frightening insistence that the two of them meet and discuss where they stood, Bog had managed to delay the conversation for nearly an hour, claiming that he needed to send word to his mother right away.  The poor gobliness had been almost insane with worry.

As time ticked by, Marianne grew bored with mentally bemoaning her appearance in the mirror.  She was forbidden from going outside and/or partaking in any strenuous physical activity, as per Master Philip’s orders, so there would be absolutely _no_ sparring for at least another week.  With her pale, wiped clean face, light pink nightgown, and white, wool shawl to ‘keep off the chill’ (also Master Philip’s orders), she looked less like a warrior and more like a frosted orchid.  To keep from going stir crazy, she busied herself with looking over Bog’s letters.

There were five in total, each written on that special ocher parchment that smelled of sandalwood and honeysuckle.  However, the more recent the date, the more crinkled and messy were the paper and script, yet the messages shrank from several open and friendly paragraphs to just a few brief, emotionally distant sentences.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Hey Tough Girl,_         

_Can’t handle the pressures of the throne, huh?_

_Ha ha, just kidding.  I know all too well the stress of ruling a kingdom alone, so I understand if you need to take some more time to get things in order before you come visit.  It’s too bad, though. There was going to be a perfect full moon last night, and I was going to make love to you under the stars.  How’s that for a bribe?_

_I know, I’m terrible!_

_On a different note, mom needs your measurements for that dress she’s making.  You should’ve seen the look she gave me when she asked me if I knew them, and I just said you were ‘short and petite’.  Apparently, that was, and I quote: ‘idiotically unhelpful’.  As per your request for darker colors, and since you liked that Queen of the Night dress she made you for your birthday, she’s making this one out of Black Dahlias and Four o’ Clock flowers.  I can’t wait to see how beautiful you’re going to look when you wear it for the Migration Eve Ball._

_Still, as much as I’m looking forward to that part, I can’t believe autumn’s here already.  I’m going to miss you so much.  I hate when you leave for the winter.  Hell, I hate when you leave, period! _

_I know, I know. I’m whining, but I just can’t help it.  I’m a love-struck fool, and I blame you!_

_The water level at Mayfly Pond is finally high enough to go boating again.  You’ll love it.  It’s very relaxing, and I know a spot where there’s lots of purple and blue azaleas on the bank.  It’ll be safe to swim there and I’m very eager to seeing you in your red bathing suit again.  I’ll even take you to Biter’s Cove and show you how to fish.  You said you’ve never had minnow before.  Oh boy, you don’t know what you’re missing!  Plus, there may or may not be a big, creepy cave to explore nearby…  _

_I’ve been practicing that patinando move you showed me, but I can’t get the speed quite right.  When you come, I’d really appreciate you checking to make sure I’m not missing anything and help me refine it, and then I’ll see how your jodan technique has improved.  Is that reed I gave you still holding up well in your drills?  I know you wanted to start with something heavier, but trust me, I’ve whacked myself in the head enough over the years to know that lighter is way better in the beginning._

_Well, I know you’re super busy, so I’ll wrap it up.  Keep doing your best, love, but don’t forget to get plenty of rest and to please ask for help, when you need it.  Don’t roll your eyes at me!  I know she can be flighty, but Dawn has a right to know how to run things too, so don’t be afraid to let her have a turn if you want a break.  And of course, you know you can always ask me if you need a second opinion on anything._

_I love you.  Take care, and I’ll see you next week!_

_Love,_

_Wild Thing_

 

* * *

_Dear Marianne,_

_I guess you must really be swamped since you didn’t come by last week or the week before.  I hope everything’s alright since I haven’t heard from you.  Any idea when you might be free to head on over?  I don’t plan to leave the castle for a few weeks, so whenever you’re free to come will be perfectly fine._

_Mother’s gathered all the material for your dress, and she’s started putting it together as best she can.  She still needs your measurements.  Lately, she’s been making me help her and I have to tell you, it’s extremely embarrassing using my hands to give my mother an idea of how wide your hips are, or your breast size.  She won’t stop grinning at me!_

_Other than that, not much has been going on around here, unless you count Thang falling in quicksand the other day.  He’s fine, it was only waist deep, but he thought he was drowning.  His freak out was pretty hilarious.  Stuff had to smack him to shut him up.  Oh, and yesterday morning I finally tried oatmeal with cinnamon, like you told me.  You were right, it is delicious._

_If you’re not interested in fishing at Mayfly Pond, I understand.  We can find something else to do.  And it’s fine if you also haven’t really had the time to practice the jodan technique.  We both know taking care of a kingdom is more important._

_Anyway, I won’t take up more of your time, so I hope you and Dawn are doing well.  I love you, and I hope to see you soon._

_Yours,_

_Bog_

_p.s. -  I’m sorry if I was out of line with that bribe joke and that comment about your bathing suit.  I was trying to be complimentary, but I think I went too far._

 

* * *

_Princess Marianne,_

_I won’t lie, I’m starting to get a little worried.  It’s been three days since I wrote you last, and the messengers have sworn that all of my letters have been successfully delivered.  Things must be terribly hectic if you can’t find a moment to just let me know if everything is alright.  At least, I hope that’s the only reason._

_Mother is still waiting for your measurements, but at this point, she’s probably going to finish the dress as best she can and make alterations if it doesn’t fit right.  Are we still expected at the Migration Eve Ball?_

_It’s a shame you weren’t here the other day.  We caught a large muskrat on our hunt.  At this rate, my subjects will eat heartily this winter.  Have you ever had muskrat meat?  Think you can handle the bitterness, or are you still wary from that oily vole dish you tried last spring?_

_In all seriousness, Marianne, I just want to know if you’re well.  Please don’t stress yourself out with your duties.  If you truly don’t have time to write to me, I’ll gladly accept a letter from Dawn in the meantime to at least let me know how things are._

_Still hoping to hear from you very soon,_

_Sincerely,_

_Bog King_

 

* * *

 

_To the elder princess,_

_It has been two days since my last letter, and I have yet to receive a single reply.  I understand that you must be very busy with your responsibilities, but after nearly four weeks without a word, I must ask- (unintelligible scribbles) –have you been reconsidering our relationship?_

_If that be the case, I would not blame you.  However, I must ask you to please state outright that you no longer wish to see me.  I can’t endure this silence.  I know I will never deserve you, but if the past two years have meant anything to you, can you at least please say goodbye to me personally?_

_(more scribbles)_

_I anxiously await your response._

_The Bog King_

* * *

 

_To the Heir Apparent of the esteemed Fairy Kingdom,_

_I implore your highness, for honor’s sake, to respond post haste if you wish to terminate our courtship.  If so, I shall heed your request and correspond no further. Please reply at your earliest convenience. _

_Hoping you are in good health and with the highest respect,_

_The Almighty Bog King of the Dark Forest_

* * *

 

 

Biting back tears, Marianne tossed the letters back onto her vanity and massaged the sudden throbbing in her right temple.  As much as it needed to happen, she really wasn’t looking forward to the impending conversation between her and Bog, especially now that she’d learned what state his mind had been in just before he’d learned of her illness and its severity; and likely, what state is was in still. 

Other than apologizing profusely and reassuring him that she most certainly did _not_ want to ‘terminate their courtship’, she honestly had no idea what to say to him.  His last few letters left a bad taste in her mouth; the final one in particular.  She hated how they’d grown so formal, so impersonal, so unlike her Bog.

It _scared_ her.

After all this time, how could he think her silence meant she didn’t want to be with him anymore?  Other than her being busy, why was _that_ the most logical conclusion for him to jump to?

Did he truly have such little faith in the two of them? 

In _her_?

.

.

.

Of course, who was she to talk?  This whole mess was her fault to begin with.  She hadn’t known that things would spiral out of control as much as they had, but in hindsight, she supposed that really didn’t matter at all. 

Heavens above, what had she been thinking?! 

Keeping it a secret from Bog, and dragging poor Dawn into the middle?!

She felt like such a selfish fool.

Her self-degrading thoughts were interrupted by a clumsy shuffling sound and a hissing voice outside her bedchamber. 

“ _I’m goin’, I’m goin’!  Ow!  Quit shovin’ me, damn it!_ ”

The door swung open just enough for Bog to be pushed inside by a pair of familiar, dainty, fairy hands, which vanished as quickly as they’d appeared.  As the thudding echo of the door slamming shut behind him faded to nothing, Bog straightened his stance and slowly turned to face her.

She lowered her gaze, tightened her grip on the shawl, and took a deep, calming breath before looking up…

…but when those forget-me-not blue eyes met her honey browns, the most deafening and unnerving silence Marianne had ever experienced, descended on the room. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it! It's finally done! Hope it pleases you guys!!!

Marianne had never liked being stared at.  So, it was just her luck to be born a princess, where one was often stared at en masse, and expected to be regal and serene under each and every last scrutiny.  The only person whose staring she usually enjoyed was Bog’s, because his eyes were always full of some combination of awe, adoration, and her favorite, lust. 

But that was not the case now.  In this horrible moment, his expression held no awe, adoration, or lust.  Instead, the look he was giving her was similar to the one from two years ago; when he thought she was playing him for a fool while her army snuck up on his castle without its king present.  Except, this time, there was no anger blazing away in those orbs of blue-fire.  Now, they were guarded and stony, like two ancient ice glaciers, holding only the distrust, and the sadness; and it was so much worse.

It was heartbreaking.   

She had prayed she would never see that look on his face ever again.

The last, and only, time she’d seen it this exact way before, was while they were waiting for Dawn to be fetched from the dungeon.  Bog had stepped back away from her when she’d refused to give a verbal answer to the ‘Is that the guy?’ question.  The slimy, pompous guy in question was still making those stupid cockroach noises, and she wanted nothing more than to beat the tar out of him with her bare hands, if it weren’t for the goblin guards restraining her arms.  Instead, all she could do was look to Bog, but her body had frozen at what she saw.

He was staring at her with no more emotion than a granite statue.  The dazzling light she’d seen in his eyes during their spar, and their flight through his stunning kingdom under the moon, was gone.  His gaze was empty, forlorn…

…dead.

Feeling a shot of anxiety at the sight, she’d tried to say something, anything, and had even instinctually moved towards him, but the goblins held her back with duplicate growls, and Bog turned from her at the same time, striding down the dais steps to meet Dawn when she appeared.  She’d been at a loss for words until her sister arrived.  To this day, she couldn’t even really remember what she’d said, but when his harsh, doubting expression melted into a sorrowful gleam of surprise and _hope_ , she’d renewed her struggles against her captors. 

That was the moment she realized that, without meaning to, she’d found him, and she’d be damned if she let him go.

His near brush with death only minutes later, had destroyed her.  Of course, she was happy and thankful that Dawn was no longer under the influence of that awful potion, and had finally realized her feelings for Sunny; but, to this day, she had no idea what she’d said to her or what her hug had felt like.  What stood out in her sensory memory, was the scorching burn of tears in her eyes and down her cheeks. 

Other than that, she was completely numb.  It was like her own soul had fled from her body, leaving behind nothing but a walking, talking bag of flesh.  There was just…nothing. 

Until a wounded, but very much alive Bog, flew up from the wreckage and over her head.  The joy and life bubbled up from her stomach and exploded in her chest like a volcano. 

Now, she was back to square one, only this time, there was no cheating ex to blame.  Only herself.  She felt nauseous and naked (and definitely not the _good_ kind of naked she normally felt around Bog sometimes).      

Oh God, she couldn’t stand this another minute.  She wanted- _needed_ -nothing more than to banish the shadows from his face.  And to do that, she had to talk to him.  She still wasn’t sure exactly how she was going to begin, but as more seconds ticked by, she knew it didn’t matter.  The important thing was to start, and the rest would follow.

_Just do it and get it over with.  Like ripping off a sap bandage.  Open your mouth and make words._

Clenching her fists, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, like she used to do before giving an oral report during her childhood school lessons, she finally spoke.

“Okay,” her voice was shaky, but determined, “Bog, I……I’m _sorry_.  I didn’t…  I didn’t think it was that serious.  Honestly, I thought I’d be back on my feet in just a couple of days, but……I know that…really doesn’t matter, at this point.  I shouldn’t have kept it from you, and I shouldn’t have gotten Dawn involved.   I never meant for this to happen.  I’m _really_ sorry.”

Bog didn’t say anything for a long while and Marianne was dismayed to see the darkness in his eyes remain steadfast.  She was so unhappily focused on that fact, she almost missed his short, quiet question.

“Why?”

“…What?”

“Why did ye do this?”  His tone was the perfect auditory representation of his stormy, cynical eyes.  “I dorn’t care about _how_ , but I deserve to know _why_.”

Marianne bit her cheek and forced herself not to fidget.  Logically, she knew he would likely ask her that eventually, but heaven help her if it wasn’t the hardest thing to explain without sounding callous or cruel, despite her intentions.  She’d hoped she would have some more time during their exchange to formulate a better answer.  No such luck; the time was _now_. 

“I…” her gulp turned into a loud cough to clear the lump in her throat, “I just didn’t wanna…w-worry you.”

She winced at the stupidity of her reason after all that had happened.  All Bog had done _was_ worry! 

“Why not?”  He flatly demanded.  “Dorn’t I have a right to know?”

Damn.  After how dumb her last explanation sounded, she _really_ didn’t want to answer that and top herself, but she had no choice.  She had put him through hell.

“Of course you do, Bog!  I was……I was just afraid that…you’d…f-freak out and…then you’d come over here and......fuss over me when it…seemed like it was nothing but a simple cold.”

Bog continued to glare at her.

“That’s _it_?”

She swallowed again at the new, slight edge in his voice and gave a heavy sigh before nodding pathetically. 

“How do ye know I would’ve reacted that way?  I’m a full-grown adult, Marianne.  Do ye really not think I can control myself?”

Regardless of Bog’s still low, dry tone, the relentless staring was finally beginning to make her nerves itch, and when Marianne got uncomfortable, she got _defensive_. 

“No, Bog.”  She frowned and made the grave mistake of averting her gaze, so she failed to see the growing flare of anger in Bog’s eyes.  “But I _have_ seen you get upset over arbitrary scratches and bruises I get when we spar or explore the Dark Forest, so I…I didn’t know what to expect.  You know I can take care of myself; I was just trying to……to avoid a scene, I guess.  I-I don’t know!  I wasn’t thinking!  I said I was sorry!  You have no idea how much!  That’s why I wanna know about _these_!”

She clutched the pile of letters in her hand.  The crumpled edges flared out like some sort of grotesque flower.  Her glower was aimed straight at it, as if willing it to burst into flames.

“Bog, how could you think that I’d want to ‘terminate our courtship’?  A few weeks of silence and you automatically think that I don’t _love_ you anymore?  Why on _earth_ would you-?”

“WELL IF YE CAN TAKE SUCH GOOD CARE OF YERSELF, WHAT ELSE WAS I _SUPPOSED_ TO THINK?!” 

He hadn’t meant to yell, she knew that, but when he saw the spark of fear in her eyes as she flinched and the letters drifted to the floor, Bog turned, and with a deafening roar of self-hatred, slammed his fist into the wall, _hard_.

Marianne almost cried out in alarm, terrified that he might’ve broken his hand, but it amazingly came away from the newly cracked stone without any misshapen fingers or blood visible.  Sometimes, it still shocked her how incredibly strong he was.  

As the last echoes of his punch faded away, the drowning silence returned full force.

She couldn’t see his face, but the drooped wings and bare quiver in his shoulders, spoke volumes as to his anguish.  Like a dying leaf, the clawed hand that had so rigidly gripped his staff loosened and sank off the metal, leaving it propped against the wall.  When he at last, turned back towards her, she gasped at the tearful hurt in his eyes.  His stare stayed rooted to some nondescript spot on the floor.

“The thought that ye might be…sick or injured…” he said with slow hesitation, like a repentant child, “…never once crossed my mind…because I _know_ that.  I _know_ ye can take care of yerself, and that ye _do_ ; all the time.  I never expected somethin’ like this to happen to _you_.  So, I had nothin’ left…but my doubt.  I’ve spent so long seein’ myself as nothin’ but a hideous beast…incapable of bein’ truly loved by anyone.  Yer the first person that’s _ever_ claimed to love me as a mate…and when ye wouldn’t answer……I thought……ye’d _left_ me.”

After what seemed like an eternity, he dragged his gaze up to meet hers, and all at once, there was nothing else in her world but him.  He went on as if under torture:  

“Then I learned…what was really happenin’……and that ye’d _deliberately_ kept it from me.  It…tore me apart…….and it still is…because ye only did it to keep me from _possibly_ overreactin’.  But……deep down, barrin’ my own fuckin’ insecurities…I know I never had any _reason_ whatsoever to think…ye wouldn’t want me anymore…… _until_ I found out about all _this_.”

Something transformed in his eyes; something indescribable, but it made Marianne feel as if a red hot blade pierced her gut and a rising, phantom shriek rang in her ears. 

“You……” Bog’s trembling voice was weak and miserable, a mere breath away from a sob, “ye just can’t…do that to me.  Ye can’t… _treat_ me that way, Marianne……. _ever_.”

Marianne’s head spun with the…surrealism of this moment.  In this very room, when she was nothing more than a rambunctious, young sprout, _he_ was the living embodiment of all her nightmares and ghost stories.  The ruler of monsters that would hide in her wardrobe, or under her bed, waiting to snatch her away and gobble her up if she didn’t listen to her parents and behave herself, like a good little girl.  There was a time, long ago, where in her mind, he, and everything associated with him, was pure fear and evil.

…and now there he was…

The love of her life here and after, standing before her in all his dark, spikey glory.  This strange, utterly beautiful and kind creature of the night that loved her like no other, with his bleeding heart open wide, and his eyes so wounded and vulnerable.  All because of _her_.     

Then it hit her like a wasp sting.

 _She’d_ treated _him_ the same way _Roland_ had treated _her_.

Even if the reason for deception wasn’t the same, a lie by omission was still a lie at the core, and she couldn’t count how many times Roland had made excuses like:

_Sorry I’m late, darlin’.  Just got tied up with a few things._

_Had somethin’ to take care of; nothin’ you need to worry your pretty head about!_

_I was just **busy** , Buttercup.  It ain’t easy bein’ Captain of the Guard!_

Marianne almost fell off her vanity stool at the realization and assaulting recollections.  She could scarcely draw breath as a wave of burning tears filled her eyes, and acute nausea churned her insides.  The overwhelming guilt was like an incubus laying its full, crouching weight upon her shoulders and reaching in through her back with its demonic hand to crush the air from her lungs. 

She had shown such blatant disrespect to man she loved, how could he ever forgive her?

Perhaps that was the crowning moment of her selfishness, but the panic that spiked within her at the thought, forced her to stand on wobbly legs and timidly approach Bog as if he were a spirit that might vanish in less than a blink.

But he did not leave her.  Though his woeful expression remained in place, he opened his arms to her and she immediately threw herself into his chest, clutching at him and weeping her dreadful remorse and shame.

“I’m sorry, Bog!  Oh God, I’m _so_ sorry!  I love you so much!  It’s all my fault!  I never meant to do this to you!  I’m _sorry_!  Please, forgive me, Bog!”

“Marianne-”

“I swear, I’ll never keep anything like this from you ever again!  If I get so much as a _paper cut_ , you’ll be the first person I tell!”

“Marianne-” 

“I _promise_!  Bog, I love you!  I’m so, so sorry!  I didn’t-!”  

“Shh, shh-shh…” Bog hushed, wrapping his arms even tighter around her waist, “that’s enough, Tough Girl.  Please, just calm down.”

The princess chewed her lip to keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t help the sniffling.  As Bog held her and absentmindedly stroked the base of her wings, she wondered if she was the one shivering or if it was him.  Or were they both doing it?

“I forgive ye, luv.”  He said after what felt like ages, tucking her head under his chin.  “I’ll always forgive ye.  I love ye.……and I’m sorry, too.  I should’ve had more faith in yer feelin's fer me, and not been so quick to assume the worst.  Ye dorn’t need to tell me about every single paper cut.”

She melted at his soft chuckle.

“We’d spend the whole day countin’ every wee nick after only sparrin’ fer an hour.  We’d never get anythin’ done.  I just…want ye to let me _know_ what’s goin’ on, and be honest with me.  That’s all.”

“I will, Bog.”  She nodded, unable to contain her smile of profound relief.  “I will.”

“And if I _do_ overreact, then just punch me again, okay?”

“Thanks, but after all this, I think I’d rather kiss you instead.”  She giggled.  “And I want _you_ to really practice seeing yourself the way I see you, because I can assure you, you’re _never_ gonna lose me.”

He tilted her chin up to meet his tender, limpid eyes.  His thumb gently caressed the blossom shape of her blush and she momentarily forgot how to breathe.  

“Good to know.”

Then their lips met in a yearning and exultant kiss that carried more healing than medicine could ever hope to offer, and Marianne knew, from the depths of her being, that though they weren’t perfect, and more mistakes would likely be made in the future, both of them would fight tooth and nail to overcome whatever problems formed, so they could stay happy and healthy, side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are the best things in life to a writer, so be sure to leave some!  
> Lofe you all!!!  
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just getting warmed up with this. More sadness to come! I still feel like a monster for making Dawn so miserable! 
> 
> Please leave a kudos or, (even better) a comment! It means so much to me to hear from you guys and discuss things <3
> 
> 200 hits and I'll post another story or chapter!


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